


Racing the Sands of Time

by joufancyhuh



Series: Starkhaven's Finest [15]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drama, F/M, Major Character Death like it says, NonInquisitor Trevelyan, Yo the Western Approach sucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-16 12:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18094517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joufancyhuh/pseuds/joufancyhuh
Summary: What started as a simple mission leaves Evelyn Trevelyan fighting for her life in the middle of a sandstorm.





	Racing the Sands of Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Inuy21](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inuy21/gifts).



> In the words of Anakin Skywalker, "I hate sand."

"Frederic," Evelyn called as she approached the campsite with her mount trailing after her, more than a little annoyed by her task. Everyone at camp drew straws for this duty, and lucky her, she got the shortest one. Rylen had a right smart look to his face when she saddled the dracolisk, one she wanted nothing more than to wipe off.    
  
"Ah, Ser Trevelyan!" Frederic poked his head out of his tent, forgetting his mask. Evelyn barely recognized him without it, not used to seeing his bare face when making visits to check on his general well being. Realizing why she stared, he floundered, ducking back inside. "Just a minute," he called, and when he reemerged, his red mask covered the entirety of his face. "Forgive me," he bowed. "I wasn't expecting company. How can I help you, Ser Trevelyan?"   


_Not expecting company--was he serious?_ "You know you're welcome at the Keep, right?" Evelyn crossed her arms over her chest, doing little to soften the glare made by the harsh sun baking her inside her shiny metal armor.    
  
"But I am so close to the dragon's nest here! All my research stems from this area. It wouldn't make sense to move it all now." He pointed upward, toward the empty sky over the ravine. "I think I saw her yesterday, flying towards that direction. She's gorgeous, an Abyssal High Dragon. Absolutely superb."   


_Until she decides she wants a late night snack_ , Evelyn thought to herself, saying nothing. Instead, she turned the opposite direction, pointing toward the vast emptiness of the Approach. "Well, you'll have to come in tonight. Storm's heading this way."

When he made no move to pack his things, his attention still on the vacant patch of sky, she sighed. Talking to Frederic reminded her of talking to her brother, Devlin, in that neither did nothing they didn't want to do. She clapped her hands together, jolting him out of his trance and enjoying his little jump of surprise. "Did you hear me? A storm is heading this way, and the Knight Captain wants you inside the Keep."    
  
She hated the Orlesian masks; his face remained unreadable even with his attention turned in her direction. After a pregnant pause, her still expecting some pushback, he gave a hefty sigh. "I'll pack my trunk."   
  
"Good man," she said, electing to wait outside the tent with the dracolisks.

Frederic's mount hissed at her, but her own hissed back, moving to step in front of her as if to shield from an impending attack. One good thing about this trip, she got to spend time with her favorite mount, Sandy, a cheeky nickname  from one of the recruits. She ran a hand down Sandy's scaly neck, the dracolisk leaning into the touch and nudging her shoulder with his nose.

When Frederic came out, no trunk followed. Evelyn groaned, knowing the man came out to attest the plan. "There is a cave nearby. I can fend for myself there until it blows over."   
  
"Frederic, no. We literally just went over this. The Knight Captain said to bring you to the Keep. You're only wasting time at this point."   
  
"But I can't choose which research is important when all of it is! I need everything in my tent, and to make sure that the feeding carcasses I've been studying don't get buried by the storm!"   
  
"The storm's going to bury us both if we don't leave soon!" Riding out the storm with this man in a random cave was less than appealing, even more to know that Rylen would worry when she didn't return. "Don't be so bloody stubborn. I'll force you along if need be."   
  
Frederic held out his hands as if in surrender. "Okay, okay. I'll go, but if we lose any of my life's work-"   
  
"You'll what? Sick the Inquisitor on me?" She crossed her arms over her chest, straightening her back to stand at her tallest. Evelyn was by no means small, and the armor added to her bulk, adding to her intimidation.

  
Frederic shrank back, her desired effect working to her advantage. "No, no need to involve the Inquisitor. She's a very busy woman, I'm sure. But you will receive a strongly worded letter!"   
  
Evelyn rolled her eyes. Like she hadn't received many of those in her time, especially from her own family. "I'm giving you five minutes. Whatever you don't have packed gets left behind, got it?"   
  
Frederic did a small jump into action, scurrying back inside. She heard things being thrown into a trunk, and right on the five minute mark, he emerged, chest heaving as he dragged a rather large trunk through the sand. "I could use help with this."

With relative ease, Evelyn hefted the trunk onto the cart she brought with her. Sandy growled at the additional weight, but she easily placated him with the treats she brought with her. The other dracolisk did something similar to whining as it attempted to lurch forward, not wanting to be left out of the snacks. Sandy tried again to step between them, but Evelyn was weak to animals, even ones that hissed at her. Careful, she held out the dead mouse, swinging it until she tossed it in the air. The dracolisk gobbled it up, and Evelyn almost thought she saw it smile in return.   
  
Frederic huffed. "If you're quite finished playing- Really, you threaten me with urgency, and then you relax with the mounts-"   
  
"Seeing as how our mounts will be carrying us across the Approach, yes, I gave them a bit of incentive." She holstered one foot in the saddle, then pulled herself up into riding position. Frederic copied her movements, but not without several glances behind him. If she wasn't careful, he might double back once they took off.    
  
She waved him forward. "You go in front, since Sandy and I have the cart."   
  
His hesitation proved her theory. "I think it might be best if I brought up the rear."    
  
Maker, he and Devlin would get along swell, the way they refused to listen to simple direction. "Up front where I can see you, now."

It took her hand skimming the hilt of her blade, but he listened, darting to take the lead. As their mounts trotted outside of the rock cropping, she spotted the orange wall of sand starting to appear over the upper ledges of the Approach. They would arrive back just in time to make it safely inside, which meant no distractions. She kicked her heels into her mount, trying to set a faster pace, but he refused, the cart wobbling already at their speed. On high alert, she watched Frederic grow more and more fidgety, throwing several glances behind him toward his camp.    
  
"Everyone else came along fine," she called out to him, watching him startle a little at the sound of her voice. "But you ignored when our troops tried to bring you in. And so now I'm here."   
  
"I appreciate what you're trying to do, Ser Trevelyan," he called back, slowing up on his mount so that he fell in step beside her. "I do quite enjoy living, thank you. However, that work back there is priceless. You have no idea how long I've worked to accrue it all."   
  
"You've lived out here long enough, Frederic. You must have sandstorm precautions by now."   
  
He hung his head. "There is very little one can do in preparation. I used to take to the caves, but only after throwing tarps and blankets over my subjects for me to unearth once the storm passed."   
  
"We'll help you dig them up again," she offered, trying to help ease the blow of leaving it behind. "Or help you find new... animal... carcasses... whatever it is you study exactly."

"Without the protection, the subjects will be impossible to recover." He let out a long, drawn-out sigh in an attempt to garner her sympathy. "It might take months before I find a sample that fresh again."   
  
"At least you're alive to do it," she replied, her voice heavy on the sarcasm. Her eyes fell to the fast approaching storm, and how they only made the halfway point from the Keep. With Sandy’s current pace, they wouldn’t make it in time, not before the storm hit. "Do me a favor, Frederic."    
  
He nodded, his attention also turning to the storm. "How bad is it?"   
  
"Run, and you can still make it."   
  
He shook his head. "And leave you behind? The Knight Captain can be a dragon himself when he wants, I've seen him angry."   
  
She grinned at that, the scholar not wrong. But time ran short, and while his concern appeared genuine, she knew he only really cared about his materials in the trunk. "We'll get there, don't worry. But they're holding those gates open for you, and they're not going to close them until you go through."   
  
Frederic lifted his mask off his face, soft brown eyes bearing into hers. "Are you certain?"   
  
As certain as she could be. Worrying about another person, especially someone as frustrating as Frederic, would only cause problems. "You're wasting time! Go!"    
  
He gave a curt nod and repositioned his mask. "Maker protect you, Ser Trevelyan." He kicked his heels into his dracolisk to speed it up. She did the same with little hope. Sandy knew the cart unbalanced, and if they went faster, it would topple both himself and the trunk, adding more time onto their return. 

Evelyn watched as the storm wall swallowed up an outpost near the Keep.  She had a decision to make with only mere minutes to act. They could keep going, trying to reach their promised shelter and prevent anyone (Rylen) from doing something stupid like coming out after her. But she had very little to protect against the sand, her armor full of crevices for the sand to enter, leading to weighing her down and making it near impossible to move. Not to mention that even with a veil to cover her face, sand always found ways under it. Then the dracolisk, while a creature of the desert, had little to protect his eyes or mouth. The risk to continue on was too great to take.    
  
That left seeking shelter somewhere out in the flatlands that they traipsed across. Her eyes tore away from the storm to find some place to keep them safe, but there was nothing around them to use in order to block out the sand.

Thinking quick, she stopped Sandy and hurled herself off his back. The Keep disappeared behind the wall; time cut short. Drawing her sword, she slammed the blade into the stem of the cart that connected it to her mount. The dracolisk hissed at the brutal display, bucking a little, but she didn't have time to worry about him. She flipped the cart, the trunk slamming sideways on the sand. Using a large blanket she dug out of her saddle, all recruits kept one on them for storms, she anchored it to the cart in a makeshift tent. With the trunk's help, she secured the other side enough that it might make a decent hold against the sand.    
  
"Come on, Sandy," she coaxed, trying to duck her mount into the small opening. "I'm not leaving you out here."    
  
The dracolisk, usually a fighter, obeyed as if he knew about the storm and what that meant for them both. Evelyn thanked the Maker as she crawled into the small space and tied down the entrance just as the storm reached their location.

Winds rattled and beat at her tent, sand flying through the cracks in the cart. Sandy let off something like a howl, and Evelyn petted his head with faux reassurance. "This isn't so bad," she said, her voice too soft to sound like her own. She unclipped her shield from her back, holding it against one of the bigger cracks in the wood.    
  
Sandstorms varied in time, with no means of measuring how long one might last. She prayed for a quick one, her faith in her abilities to create a tent rattling as sand beat against the blanket, the ground slowly shifting around her. She doubted the shelter would last through a long storm.    
  
With all the fucking things they put up with out in the Approach -the poisonous and downright unfriendly wildlife, the Venatori, the bandits, the heat, the lack of fresh water, the great distance away from everything- the storms were the worst of it. How many naive recruits did they lose to the sands? How many shipments of supplies dumped so that the merchant found cover and lived through it? How many rebuilding projects needed extra time because of the storms? They could fight every damn thing in this mess, but this problem against Mother Nature herself proved unsolvable, not even the Inquisitor with her magic tricks able to fix it.

Trapped beneath her blanket and trying her best not to worry, her mind played out her responsibilities if she had made it back in time. Rylen made sure ever to cover or block every opening in her absence; when she arrived back, she would've been in charge of taking roll, making sure every soldier checked in. Preparing supplies to leave with them to assist as they dig out their camps. Readying the replacement supplies for when scouts came back with a list of what got destroyed or lost in the storm. Maybe trying to comfort those who had friends still out there, those sick with worry and Evelyn trying her best to calm them down. "Hey, it'll be okay. They're scrappy. They'll survive. Do you like tarts? The chef made some in the kitchen area if you're hungry."    
  
What did Rylen do in her absence? Did he throw himself into work, in keeping Griffon Wing under control and preventing anyone from opening the doors to look for those still out there? Or did someone else stand guard while Rylen raged about needing to find her, someone else taking her job to try and soothe him, perhaps even by distracting him with food? She took her bet with work, him doing his best to maintain a level of focus in the chaos around him. He operated better that way, centering himself with tasks.

Sandy whined again, and she turned her attention back to the dracolisk, rubbing her hand across the top of his head. "It'll be okay, boy." She leaned down to rest her cheek against him. When they got back, she owed him twelve mice for this. And maybe a tasty human treat for herself.    
  
The storm, as suddenly as it bore down on them, stopped with the same abruptness after two hours. Sandy grew restless under the blanket, the air hot and difficult to breathe in. Evelyn removed her shield to peer out through the crack, but sand started to pour in and she quickly plugged it backup. "That's not... a good sign." The crack sat midway on the cart, which meant sand buried then at least halfway down, if not fully. Sandy huffed as he grew restless, attempting to stand up, but Evelyn brushed her hand over his neck in an effort to calm him down.  "Not yet," she coaxed. "Stop!"    
  
Sandy stilled her the moment, but not before hissing at her. She hissed back, scrunching her face up as her eyes began to search for the easiest way to check their safety. When she pushed up on the ceiling of their shelter, it felt heavy, even for her. She tried again in various patches, and each time the sands shifted, but proved too much for her to feel safe enough to attempt escape. "Fuck," she yelled. They were buried.

But she couldn't do nothing. Air ran short, she knew that much.They lost half their soldiers due to them being trapped underground. She didn't plan to include herself in that number.    
  
Careful not to disrupt the tent, she cracked open Frederic's trunk, searching for something that might assist them. Inside was a scattered mess of papers and books, a few bones, and tools for digging on a small scale, but nothing useful enough to get them out. Her shield dug better than that tiny shovel in there, but she couldn't move her shield without the area filling with sand.    
  
If she could find some way to get something to the surface, push through the sand, then maybe someone would see it. She knew there was a search party out there for her; she expected no less from Rylen, him probably geared up before the storm even stopped. But the topography changed in storms, it always did, and retracing steps wasn't as easy as it should have been.

But what did she have other than her sword? And slicing through the canopy of her tent wasn't an option. She picked through the trunk again. Tiny shovel. Tiny brushes. Papers. Books. Tiny axe? And bones. The biggest one came to half the length of her sword, but with lack of a better option, she grabbed it out. Frederic would just have to deal over its loss.    
  
"Now the tricky part," she said, searching for a way to stick the bone through the ceiling without causing a collapse. Her best bet were the corners of the cart, the sturdiest parts of the makeshift structure.

She found a loose board on the second row from the top. Taking in a deep breath, she pried it back. The result was immediate, mountains of sand pouring into the tent and spooking Sandy who scooted away from it. Evelyn shoved her hand with the bone through and pushed up. She thought she felt the break of surface but couldn't be sure, not with the sand rapidly coming in. Securing the bone standing up to the best of her ability, she quickly withdrew her arm and fought with the sand to get the wood back in place. But even after she closed it, the damage had been done, a steady stream of sand now trickling through the board. Hopefully the sacrifice was worth it.

_Dammit,_ if she was just going to shove her arm through a hole, she could've sent her sword through, that longer and more obvious than a stupid bone. But she didn't dare try again, not wanting to make her problem worse.    
  
She was Evelyn Trevelyan! She wasn't going to just sit there and wait to be rescued or wait to die! She had to act, do something to get herself out of this literal hole. She looked to her companion. "What are our options here, Sandy?"   
  
He hissed in reply, then started to stand up again, but not before her hands gently pushed him back down. "You're making it worse, not better." 

Her mind laid out her choices for her in checklist format. 

  
_   
Option One: Dig their way out with the tiny shovel.  _

__ Likely result: Run out of air before making a dent.    
  
Option Two: Cut through the ceiling and try to use the shield to push up through the sand. Stand on Sandy's back for maximum height and best chance to break the surface? 

__ Likely result: Death by sand.    
  
Option Three: Do nothing. Wait to be rescued.  

_ Likely result: Asphyxiation. _

 

She ran over those three options countl ess times, but as her body began to drag, she knew they reached the end of the line. She grabbed her shield, ignoring the steady pouring of sand into the tent, and readied her sword. Sandy started to rise again, and she hopped on his back, maneuvering so that she crouched on top of the saddle. "Well, if this doesn't work, we tried our best." She gave the mount one last pat. It was all or nothing.

"Okay, now!" She yelled with all the might of a military Commander, her sword raising up as she made a quick X into the fabric. The pour was immediate, and she raised the shield over her head to block its fall, grunting as both her and Sandy pushed up with all their might. And then the pressure snapped, there and suddenly gone as she hit the sweet air, her lungs gasping as they broke surface. She scrambled up, then dug her shield into the sand to keep her up, reaching back to drag Sandy with her. The dracolisk hissed in terror as sand quickly filled their hideaway, and as swift as they broke cover, the hole filled, her mount disappearing with it. 

"No!" Evelyn sobbed, dropping her sword behind her and using her hands to try and dig back down. "No, Sandy, hang on!" Hot tears stung her eyes as she kept going, eventually pulling her greaves off for a better scoop, even grabbing her shield to assist. But nothing stirred beneath her, and for every bit she moved out, it quickly replaced itself, the shelter buried beneath her. 

Her wails of sorrow drew attention, and she heard someone shout behind her, "Knight Captain, she's over here!" But Evelyn didn't acknowledge them, didn't turn around. She made it only thanks to Sandy's help; it didn't seem right not to have him with her, that she survived and he didn’t. They were in this together.   
  
Someone ran up behind her as she continued to sob, a greaved hand ghosting over her head as the person moved to throw themselves to their knees in front of her. _Rylen_. He dragged her forward into a hug, and she wrapped her arms around his back, a fresh waves of sobs bursting forth at the relief of holding him again. "You're okay now," he murmured. "I've got you, you're okay." It sounded more like he worked on convincing himself than anything else. His lips skated across her forehead before he shifted to cup her cheeks, kisses covering every bit of her face. 

When she didn't respond with her usual enthusiasm, he rested his forehead to hers, thumbs sweeping over her cheekbones. "Maker, Evie. You had me so worried. Are you hurt? Is anything broken?" Without prompting, he drew back to check her over, testing the bend of her arms and wrists before she stopped him.    
  
"My mount..." was all she managed to get out before she began to cry again. He brought her back in for another hug, his hand rubbing soothing circles in the space between her shoulder blades.

"I’ll make sure he gets a hero's burial," Rylen responded, another kiss landing on her temple. She gave a short squeeze, reminded once again of his remarkability. When her sobbing slowed, he gave her a short pat on the back. "Can I take you home?"   


_Home_. "Please," she said, wiping at her damp cheeks. But when they both got to their feet, she paused, her body sore from the awkward positioning in the tent and the sudden burst through the ceiling. Rylen stopped with her, lowering his head for a needy kiss that spoke to his own worry, of his happiness at finding her unscathed. She lingered there with him like that, long enough to hear the awkward shuffling of their fellow soldiers starting to amble away.    
  
When they fell away, his arm circled her waist as she leaned into him. And together they headed home, away from the aftermath of the storm. 

**Author's Note:**

> In Memory of Sandy. R.I.P.


End file.
